


Echo

by ExecutiveShrimp



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smutty, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExecutiveShrimp/pseuds/ExecutiveShrimp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, 2x1: Duo Maxwell struggles through the days and nights half alive until one night, on the prowl, he meets a young man who breathes life into him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

**ECHO**

"-* _learned to live half alive_ *-

"- * _I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord. Well, I've been waiting for this moment for all of my life, oh Lo_ *-"

"-a Chilean elderly woman disappeared from her home without a trace. Her granddaughter found nothing but ash in her bed. Believers claim this occurrence is the latest example of SHC: Spontaneous Human Combustion. Of course no-"

"- * _have faith in God above, if the Bible tells you so? Now do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And_ *-"

"-* _in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast…_ *-"

"- here in New York City. A man was attacked by a group of vigilantes who claimed he was a vampire. This has been a recurring problem. Groups of people are patrolling the streets at night, harassing people, looking for vampires! We live in a world where adults believe in fairy tales.-"

"Why are you making me listen to this bullshit, Quatre?" Duo wondered with a grumble and took one hand off the steering wheel to reach for the dial he had allowed his friend to play with.

The blonde quickly beat him to it and changed the channel back to the soft rock song that played earlier.

"-*you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…*-"

Duo squeezed his cold fingers around the steering wheel, hearing the leather crinkle.

Quatre drummed his fingers on his thighs, accompanying the guitar solo. "I think it's interesting. It's fascinating how people's minds work, how they see the world around them and react to what they see and try to explain it all. And when they can't explain it, they fight it."

"It's all the same. Nobody has a unique thought nowadays. They have nothing but a copy of an old original; grainy, faded and distorted. But everyone feels the need to force the image onto the world. Share it. Tweet it. Make a Youtube video about it. The more likes they get, the more validated they feel and the behavior escalates from there."

"Seems like I caught you in a mood," Quatre observed in a low mumble and averted his gaze out the side window to shamelessly stare at the man in the car next to them as they were caught in downtown traffic.

"People are assholes, Quatre," The driver insisted. "And they are encouraged to be assholes. Everyone thinks they are so fucking special, with their  _likes_  and  _retweets_." He spat the words that were still unfamiliar to his mouth. "Their pretentious lives as herd animals are validated and the behavior escalates from there. They haven't evolved one bit. We're one news-story removed from reliving the with-trial days."

The blonde in the passenger seat snickered. "Maybe you've just been an NYC cabbie for too long. You should think about another career switch. Change will be good for you."

"I've been everything and I've been everything for too long."

"There must be something new out there that you haven't tried."

"Nothing that excites me."

Quatre sighed. "Don't be like that. You have to make the best of things. You think you have it rough? What about me? You have to keep an open mind, that is all. Learn new things."

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"You're not even that old," Quatre chastised.

"I feel old…" Duo muttered and his heart felt heavy. "The years are starting to blend together. Everything feels the same. I can't remember the last time I wasn't bored by someone or something. Every person I meet reminds me of someone from the past, someone more interesting. Every song I hear reminds me of an old song, a better song. It's been so long since I've encountered something that I haven't seen before. I feel like the world around me has gotten more dull. The colors are faded, the sounds are less crisp, the edges of shapes are blurred, the light is dim, the tastes are bland, touches are too soft to be felt."

"You're so dramatic," Quatre said lightheartedly, but with a sideway glance Duo could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I feel empty, Quatre," He admitted, watching the first droplets of the predicted rain fall on the windshield. The wipers responded automatically as the downpour started. "I feel like I am living, just because I  _can_. Not because I should. Not because I want to." He nodded at the radio and even though commercials were on at the moment, he quoted the song that had previously played: "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

"Jesus Christ, Duo, don't say shit like that. You're scaring me!"

He took his hands off the steering wheel and scrubbed his tired face. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe-" He bit his lip in hesitation. "Maybe it's been too long since you've… 'gone dancing'. You always get grumpy when you wait too long."

Duo cast a glance in his rear-view-mirror at his dull, tired, amethyst eyes. It had been a while, but he was surprised his friend brought it up. "You hate it when I 'go dancing'."

"Yes." He looked away. "But I know you need it."

"It has been a while," He concluded, after counting the days in his head. "But what I'm feeling – or rather; what I'm not feeling – goes beyond that."

"Still. I think you should go. Soon. It could help."

The driver smiled bitterly.

"I can't stand the thought of losing you, Duo." Quatre fidgeted with the frayed hem of his nightshirt. "You're all that I have."

Duo nodded. He was aware of the responsibility. Although Quatre might have been better off without him, so he could move on, the blond didn't want to let go and it wouldn't be fair of Duo to force it before he was ready to go on his own accord. He didn't want to let down his friend. Quatre had always supported him, even at times when he didn't deserve his support, much less his kindness, acceptance, or love.

Unexpectedly the back door on the driver's side opened and a man in a soaked business-suit, holding his briefcase over his head to protect his salon-styled hair, climbed into the vehicle. He took a seat in the back and leaned towards the opening in the pane of acrylic separating the front and back of the car. "208 Park Avenue," He ordered, before sitting back. No 'hello'. No 'please'. "And make it fast."

The cabbie rolled his eyes and gestured at the packed traffic surrounding them. "Would you like me to ram them out of the way or switch to flight-mode?"

Quatre laughed heartedly.

The businessman regarded his driver with wild eyes. He leaned forward again to read his ID on the dashboard. "You ought to be more mindful of your attitude, mister Maxwell. I'm a very important man. You wouldn't want me to call your supervisor. One phone call and I can have you fired."

"Impressive. All I was ever able to achieve with a single phone call was have pizza delivered. And it was twenty minutes late."

"Duo," Quatre warned, but he laughed nevertheless.

The businessman's gaze was incredulous. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No, sir. And if we are going to measure importance based on how much we know of one another, as a way to determine how much respect is due, I think I have the upper hand. Because I know nothing about you, yet you know my full name, my ID number, what I do for a living and even how to get in touch with my boss." He ignored his friend who was playfully punching his shoulder.

"You lowlife piece of scum. I'll be taking my business elsewhere. And your supervisor will be hearing from me!" He kicked the door open and awkwardly crawled out of the car. He didn't shut the door.

"Asswipe." He called over his shoulder: "Enjoy the rain!" He watched him scurry to a different cab in his side mirror.

Quatre wordlessly shut the door for him before the backseat would get drenched by the rain.

Duo laughed when his friend reappeared in the passenger seat and glared at him. "What? You just told me it was time for me to find a new job anyway."

"That doesn't mean you should be this careless. You need this job. Or  _a_  job, at least, to pay your rent."

"Yeah, unlike  _you_."

"That's not fair, Duo. Just because I don't have to worry about that stuff doesn't mean I have it easy."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

Neither of them said anything for a while. They listened to the radio and the honking of cars around them as the drivers got increasingly frustrated with the immobile traffic.

"I guess I should go," Quatre announced. "I'm starting to feel tired. I should rest."

Duo agreed wordlessly.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah," He croaked.

"So you'll 'go dancing' tonight?"

"My shift doesn't end 'til five and then I have to hurry home to crash. I'll go tomorrow night."

"Promise me you'll be careful. Don't do anything stupid."

He flashed him a smirk. "I'll try."

"I'm serious, Duo. Times have changed. You have to protect yourself."

"I know what I'm doing,  _mom_. Stop worrying."

Quatre nodded reluctantly.

Without either of them saying goodbye, Duo was left alone in the car. His dark eyes followed the movement of the windshield wiper. Back and forth. Back and forth. Finally the traffic jam dissolved and he continued his shift.

Around midnight most of his fares consisted of couples, returning home from their dates. They paid him little attention, most too absorbed in one another, completely overwhelmed by passion and love, others lost in their own headspace, ignoring him as much as they did their partner. He fiddled with the dial of the radio a couple of times, extracting some amusement from finding appropriate soundtracks to accompany the moments, grinning whenever someone shot him a look through the rear-view-mirror. Honestly, what did people expect? That he couldn't see them back there? That he didn't notice that one guy's hand disappearing under his girlfriend's skirt? Or the shift in her expression; from horrified to ecstatic?

In the wee hours of the night the demographic of his customers changed. These were the clubbers. Pairs of drunk boys and groups even drunker girls. Guys only ever got into the cab two at a time. Sometimes as many as four girls stashed themselves into the backseat and sometimes a fifth was bold enough to ask if she could ride shotgun. He never made any objections. He could easily tune them out. On occasion the guy's rumbling laughter or the girl's incessant giggles could tug at the corners of his mouth, but mostly it made him jealous. When had he last laughed with wild abandon?

In the morning, near the end of his shift, he got the worst cases. They all reeked horribly, but that was for the better. If one of them had smelled particularly nice, he might not have made it home in time.

One girl he even had to carry to her front door. She leaned her cheek against his – too high and drunk to have any inhibitions left – he enjoyed her warmth, to the extent that he could still enjoy anything. In turn, she enjoyed the feel of his cool skin with a soft moan. She too didn't smell nice. She stank of alcohol and heavy perfume to disguise she had been hunched over the toilet bowl at some point during the night.

His basement apartment was as small as could be expected with his meager income. The blinds were always drawn, there was nothing to see outside anyway but the glare from headlights and the feet of people passing by. He had rolled up towels and placed them around the window sill to block out all light that might otherwise come in through the cracks. Walking in, dragging his feet, he flicked on a single light. Long shadows accented the shapes of what little furniture he had. Only a bed at the center of the room – the absence of a couch, or even a lounge chair, allowed the small studio apartment the illusion of being spacious –, cluttered side-tables, a big bookcase blocking one of the windows and covering most of that wall and a single barstool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, where he read day-old newspapers. Quatre insisted it was important to remain up-to-date on current and important events, otherwise he would only feel even more disconnected from this modern world, but currently, he preferred to crack open one of his old books and pretend to be in a different time and in a different place. It was the only way he could stand his life; literature laced with memories. Some stories he was no longer sure if he had only ever read about them, or if he had actually lived them.

Propped up in the corner was a hand-crafted acoustic guitar. He had made it himself, he had labored over it with a passion and care that might as well have belonged to a character in one of the books, because he couldn't imagine ever having been so devoted to spend so many hours, every day, working on perfecting the instrument. It didn't seem like something he would do, not anymore. The guitar had always been his favorite, but he didn't play much anymore. Whenever he did play, he adjusted the tension in the strings, sometimes so much that the instrument was out of tune, because he had to make it sound  _different_. If it didn't sound different, there was no point in playing, he could hear every melody in his head.

He showered first, or else he wouldn't be able to sleep. He would be kept awake by the smell of his customers that had permeated his skin and his hair. His god-awful, unmanageable hair; usually kept in a braid, over three feet long. It had once been his pride and joy, but at a point taking care of it became a hassle. At first he didn't cut it because he was afraid he would regret it, nowadays he justified the long, flowing hair because it was an easy way to attract attention whenever he felt like it and it had a disarming effect on people, that had worked to his advantage a number of times.

He took his time and let the hot spray warm his body.

Clean and smelling of nothing but his generic soup, he crawled underneath his black sheets in the nude, maneuvering his long braid behind him so the damp hair wouldn't touch his skin. He wanted to savor the warmth in his body for as long as it would last. It lulled him to sleep easily.

He woke up several times during the day, but didn't get out of the bed and let himself fall back to sleep.

Twelve hours crept by, but he didn't care. If there was one thing he had enough of, it was time.

Part of him had expected Quatre would show up unannounced, but then he realized the blond was probably purposefully ignoring him until he had gone out for a night of 'dancing'. And he probably would ignore him for a few more days after that. Quatre understood it was something Duo had to do, but even after all the time that had passed, he still felt uncomfortable and conflicted about it. Duo did too, in the beginning, but it was an urge that couldn't be suppressed, if you let the desire build-up for too long, it consumes you and reduces you to a single-minded animal and that was when mistakes were made.

The older Duo had gotten, the more in control he was. At first he was a slave to the needs of his body, but at the moment it had been over a month since he had last gone to the clubs and although his friend was right to point out he was particularly cranky and sullen, he didn't yet feel like he had reached his absolute limit as far as abstinence was concerned. But it was better to be safe than sorry and maybe he would feel uplifted after a visit to the clubs. If he had even Quatre's approval, there was no real reason to torture himself by further postponing it.

After he got out of bed he killed timed reading a book and when it was around midnight he showered again, but that time he only washed himself with hot water. He didn't want the lingering smell of soap and shampoo to ruin the experience for him.

He dressed himself in slim-fitted black slacks and a black, satin button-up shirt. The most casual thing about his outfit were the rolled-up sleeves and the undone buttons at the top. He knew he would look different from the rest of the crowd, but ripped jeans and cotton T-shirts with colorful prints would never be his idea of style. Some things shouldn't change.

The music was so loud that his heart pleasantly vibrated in his chest.  _Viktoria_  was one of his favorite clubs, a staple during his nights on the prowl. Rarely did his pursuit turn out to be unsuccessful.  _Viktoria_  was nothing special – was  _anything_  special? – the DJ played the same generic dance music as in every other club and the light effects were set in a certain, standard pattern. Beams swept the dancefloor, dots of light sparkled on the ceiling, the colors faded from one color of the rainbow to another, culminating in a white, bright light before starting all over, strobe lights enhanced the effect of the prominent beat-drop in nearly every track.

The crowd was mostly young. Too young. Especially the girls. These kids liked the club because it made them giggle when they innocently said to their parents: "I'm going to go over to  _Viktoria_ ", or: "I'm going to spend the night at  _Viktoria_ , is that okay?" Parents had no idea what kinds of trouble they were exposing themselves to - with their fake ID's, low-cut tops, make-up that adds ten years and short skirts that revealed glimpses of colorful, lacy panties - especially on a night when someone like Duo walked into the club.

Quatre would resent it all the more if he knew Duo went to  _Viktoria_ , of all places. It was a good thing the blond kept his head in the sand as far as this 'hobby' was concerned, or Duo would get a drawn-out scolding, no doubt.

The tall American was insensitive to their innocence, unsympathetic to the plight of their youth. Because they were young didn't mean they deserved to be spared. They came for a thrill and, once a month, he would show one of them a real thrill.

But it weren't the young women that ever caught his attention. Women smelled too flowery and sweet – not just the scent of their perfume and layers of make-up, but their bodies oozed a scent that was altogether too light and too delicate to be heady or intoxicating.

Duo preferred the young men. Not all of them smelled  _right_ , but once in a blue moon, one did. Men had strong, musky pheromones in the sheen of sweat that covered their bodies. Most men wouldn't be interested in him – for that kind of crowd,  _Viktoria_  was the wrong place to be – but he had discovered that the one man that smelled  _right_ , was always interested in him. He considered it as much consent as he required, this one guy's body was purposefully attracting him, whether he realized it or not. On his most basic level, this faceless, nameless man wanted him and that was enough.

Duo went to the bar but didn't order a drink, nor respond to the offer of a drug dealer who was quick to approach him. There was only one thing that could provide him the ecstatic high that he needed once in a while.

With narrowed eyes he observed the dancers; doing nothing more but jumping up and down to the rhythm of the beat – some were even off-beat – or grinding their bodies together in a way that had no semblance to dancing but was still condoned on the dancefloor. The problem with a club like _Viktoria_  was how much older he felt, regarding their dull, naïve youth. Envy was not at the root of the problem, but a woeful measure of nostalgia, remembering a class and an elegance that once was and how much he delighted in upsetting the established order. His mischief was lost and wasted in a world where rules were loosely interpreted as guidelines, where propriety and decency were old-fashioned notions and nothing was ever extreme enough. The entire population suffered from blunt senses, not just Duo Maxwell. Shock and awe, once overpowering aspects of the human experience, were background noise in a life of over-stimulation. Everything clashes into an incoherent mess of sounds, sights, senses and experiences. One things cancels out another until there is nothing left but static that people become deaf and blind to.

In the silence that remains, all Duo hears are echoes from the past, beckoning him to come back. But he has as little control over time as time has control over him. He can't go back, only forward, and the view was bleak.

But this was hardly the time, nor the place, for thoughts of that sort.

Periodically he scanned the crowd and made his rounds, squeezing between hot, sweaty bodies. No luck. Not yet. He returned to his post at the bar yet again, leaning his elbows back on the surface as he stood facing the dance floor.

He was about to give up hope and head for  _Opium_  instead, when a flash of red drew his gaze.

The crowd parted at exactly the right time to expose to Duo's line of sight a young man, dancing at the center of the dance floor. With his arms thrown into the air his red shirt hiked up his torso, exposing a taut stomach and a faint trail of dark curls from his navel to the hem of his low-riding, tight jeans. His hips swayed fluidly, his spine curved elegantly. When Duo recognized his scent among the muddle of wrong smells, the decision was made.

_Him_.

He smelled right. And  _ready_ , like a ripe fruit.

Without hesitation he pushed off the bar and cut through the swarm of people. He ignored their foul glances as he had to force his way past some of them before he would lose track of that wild mop of chocolate brown hair.

When he reached him, the young man had his back turned towards him. He was dancing with no one. He was dancing with everyone. His scent was a previously unknown perfume of perfection. A deep, sharp mix of apple, pine, grass and rain. He smelled wild. Free. The perfume reminded Duo of nothing. It was completely novel.

He was aroused, Duo could smell that on him. He could taste it in his mouth. The heat that radiated from his body made Duo's entire body ache to be enveloped by it.

During his dance he eventually spun around to face Duo, who wasn't even feigning innocence by dancing to the beat. The tall man stood still on the dance floor, staring at him with predatory eyes; a lust-filled gaze that this young man didn't understand the extent of. The young man froze at the sight of this man, towering over him, feasting on him with his gaze.

He is beautiful, Duo acknowledged. Chocolate brown, messy hair framed an exotic face; a face of sculpted features and smooth planes. His tanned skin blushed red on his high cheekbones. His jaw cornered away sharply from his ears and culminated in a pointed chin. His lips were rosy and pouty; the bottom full, the top shaped like a bow. His nose was rounded and decidedly cute. His slanted eyes were big and a brilliant shade of blue. Duo studied his face without shame.

With the imminent consequences unknown to the young man in the red shirt, he was not intimidated and he grinned sloppily at the attention he was getting. His body started to move again.

"Aren't you going to dance?"

Duo suppressed a pleasant shudder at the sound of that deep, smooth voice that didn't suit his youth at all. "No one dances here," He replied, allowing his distaste to be apparent. "This isn't dancing, this is jumping."

Embarrassment flickered through cobalt-blue eyes. He halted his dance but was not discouraged by Duo's deceptive attitude. He took a step closer, pressing the very tips of his fingers against the taller man's torso as he leaned into him. "Then show me how to dance."

The touch was so hot it burned him, but it was a pain he welcomed. It was delicious. His smell was even better as it got closer and stronger; it was laced with burnt embers and a woody smoke. The young man wasn't drunk and he wasn't high either. He was just horny and desperate to be taken, foregoing all inhibitions to fulfil his desire. Duo would gladly reap the benefits. "I can't. Not here."

"Why not?"

"Too many distractions."

"Take me somewhere we won't be distracted."

_Foolish boy._  "Somewhere private?" Duo grinned.

"Yeah." The word came past his lips as a moan.

Duo turned and walked away. The boy followed him, as expected. They left the club after wordlessly, waiting at the front for the boy's coat to be handed back to him at the coat check. Outside, cold wind was channeled through the streets by the buildings. It whipped around them and tugged at their hair and clothes. The tall man was unaffected by the cold, as was the young man, who didn't bother to zip-up his coat.

"What's your name?" The American asked. It wasn't important for him to know – he had heard too many names in his lifespan to remember any of them – but he needed the boy to know his name, so he could scream it later. He knew asking for his name wouldn't just get him the answer but have the question served right back to him.

"Heero Yuy."

"Heero…" He tested the name. It was good, an easy name to purr sensually. He would regret forgetting it.

"What's your name?"

Duo threw a smirk over his shoulder at the boy, following him. "Duo." His last name was irrelevant.

"Nice to meet you."

Duo chuckled.

"Where are you taking me, Duo?"

He shivered then, he wasn't disappointed by the way his name sounded, formed by his pink tongue and tumbling from those shapely lips. Heero produced the sound of his name like a guitar produced a sultry note. If his naughty tone was any indication, Heero was aware of how attractive he was and what kind of effect he was having on the other. He probably felt more in charge than he should, sexually-confident and physically-capable. Duo would enjoy having him submit to him all the more.

"Someplace quiet," Duo answered mysteriously.

Mostly why he preferred  _Viktoria_  over all the other clubs he frequented, was the location near the docks. After a five minute walk they reached an abandoned warehouse, looking out over the Upper Bay. Heero should have been scared, but Duo couldn't detect even a single trace of trepidation in him as he followed him into the dilapidated building. The cargo elevator still worked, Duo had made sure of that, and they went up to the top floor.

The top floor was one giant, open space, with windows all around. Only the bare framework of a few walls remained. The light from the city and the bright, full moon was enough to illuminate the concrete floor so Duo could find his way to the first group of candles. In the open space a corner was created by some scaffolding. Dozens of candles dotted the scaffolding and the concrete floor surrounding the mattress placed there. He started lighting them and didn't speak a word to his guest who was drawn to the windows overlooking the bay.

"I can see the statue of Liberty from here!" He remarked excitedly and he tapped his pointed finger against the pane of glass in the general direction of the land mark, as if he honestly expected Duo needed that pointed out to him. His childlike wonder was as endearing as it was enviable.

"So you're not from New York," Duo concluded. Technically, neither was he, but he had lived in Manhattan long enough to no longer be impressed with the tourist-attractions and he knew New Yorkers – born and raised - well enough to know they were blind to the obvious gems of their city as well. A real New Yorker only got excited about hole-in-the-wall coffee-shops, the perfect bagel and out-of-way fashion outlets that have that 'undiscovered' quality to them.

"Why do people always say that?" Heero wondered and didn't tear his gaze away from the view. "I've lived here since I was ten years old."

Duo's eyebrows raised in surprised. That was longer than he had expected, given his enthusiasm from before. "Still, if you're not born here, you're not from here. You'll never be a New Yorker. It takes a lifetime."

"We're you born here?"

"No." But I've spent a lifetime here, he thought secretly.

"Where are you from?"

"You wouldn't know it." He continued to light candles.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't exist anymore." Duo was prepared to shoot down further inquiries, but the boy remained silent.

When he was done lighting the candles he stood and waited patiently, watching Heero's silhouette in front of the window, far away from the warm light of the candles that flickered. Orange light licked along the uneven concrete floor and the rumpled sheets on the mattress that he had arranged for the purpose of his monthly prowls. Heero wasn't his first guest and he wouldn't be his last.

The boy shook his coat off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor before turning to face the scene Duo had set. He approached with an unnerving calm and fearlessness. Usually, this was the point where guys typically started to get a little anxious, either because they were afraid or at least because they were eager.

Heero stood on the other side of the double mattress. He looked relaxed, his shoulders hung, his hips were slightly pushed forward. His arms were limp at his sides. "You were going to show me how to dance properly," He reminded the older man.

"Yes." Duo smirked. He walked around the mattress to the wide open space on the other side and offered the boy his hand.

"There is no music."

"Music is a distraction. The purest dance keeps in rhythm with your heartbeat and your breathing."

He extended his hand and took Duo's. When their skin first made contact he shot the tall man a look. "Your hand is cold," He said, but he wasn't deterred, nor repulsed by his cold as so many others were.

"I'm warming it up."

Duo pulled him closer to him and relished in the warmth of his body as it was pressed against his. A fire burned inside the young man and it burned more brightly than anything Duo had ever experienced. His heat easily seeped through Duo's skin and settled in his bones. The long-haired man maneuvered Heero into position: supporting his right hand with his left, placing Heero's left hand on his shoulder and aligning their hips, fusing their pelvises together and inserting one thigh between Heero's legs. He dropped his right hand , letting it caress along Heero's hollow spine before settling on the small of his lower, lower than what was considered proper, even for this kind of dance.

Heero became aroused again. Duo could smell it as much as he could feel it. Heady pheromones bloomed. And with their bodies flush against each other he could feel Heero's heart reverberate in his chest and picking up the pace until it settles on a rhythm that was more passionate than any music Duo could remember.

He started swaying their hips, their pelvises naturally grinding together and Heero allowed himself to be led, following Duo's small steps to the sides. The uncomplicated dance was determined by mood and music. In the absence of music, the atmosphere became everything and it dictated the most sensual interpretation of the dance Duo had ever been part of. Neither of them worried about the technicalities. Duo moved in the most basic steps and Heero followed like it was second nature to him. Before long Duo's erection matched Heero's and the grinding of their hips, which was the main characteristic of the dance, was a welcome pleasure as much as it was an unbearable torture.

"What kind of dance is this?" Heero wondered, already out of breath, the warmth of each labored exhale spreading across the exposed skin of Duo's neck and into his shirt.

"It's Latin-American. It's called the Bachata."

"Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"In Latin-America." He flashed him a grin to make up for his dry, condescending tone. He slipped his hand under Heero's cotton T-shirt. His hand was warm now, it had absorbed Heero's heat, but still the boy shivered at the touch. Duo's fingers trailed up further, following the spine. The fabric stretched to accommodate his entire forearm and Duo explored the sharp shapes of the shoulder blades, the tone of muscle and the faint bumps - indicating ribs – that appeared whenever Heero took a deep breath to steady himself.

Heero tilted his head up invitingly, presenting his mouth to Duo. If he had been tall enough to reach, he would have initiated the kiss himself. When Duo didn't give him the desired response, he boldly prompted: "Kiss me."

"Not yet." He dipped his head but only to let his lips brush from the corner of Heero's mouth to his hot, reddened ear. "The night is still young," He whispered.

Heero groaned and buried his nose into the crook of Duo's neck.

The tall man was caught off guard by his own smile.

The grinding of their hips ceased to resemble the dance and instead was reduced to hormonal dry-humping, but Duo didn't mind. Heero's need was apparent and he shouldn't tease him too much, not at that stage, it wouldn't be conducive to the mood. Once the boy would be all wrapped up in his own pleasure he would have no qualms with relenting control and being denied certain pleasures would only make him all the more excited and willing to surrender to him.

Heero's hands did not remain idle, he kneaded the muscles in Duo's sides and brought a hand up under his button-up, mapping the old scars that marred his pale torso. His touch was imprecise and impatient, but effective nonetheless.

Duo remembered being like that, once, long ago. When there was an inextricable quality of hurriedness to every sense of desire. Instant gratification was the only gratification. Rutting against your partner without control and without purpose. Seeking something without being able to see. Trusting the evolutionary marvel that was the human body to make the best of the basic friction that was provided and letting the brain interpret it as something mind-blowing. Now that Duo was much older, his stamina allowed him a more deliberate approach and he knew how make the most of the night.

With the tip of his tongue he drew a line down the side of Heero's throat and then placed his mouth over the pulsing artery and sucked on the skin. He could feel the blood rushing in the wild rhythm of the beating heart. He removed his mouth, leaving the patch of skin reddened and sensitive and all the more tempting, but it wasn't time yet.

The boy mewled pathetically, already surrendering to Duo's mercy, not knowing there wasn't much mercy to be found.

Duo roughly grabbed the boy's wrist and yanked it up to his face. He treated the blue veins standing out in the slim wrist to the same ministrations of his lips. He let his teeth scrape over the skin and he felt Heero tremble although his body radiated more heat than ever. He was feverishly hot. Duo could feel the young, curious thing staring at him with blue eyes at half-mast. He smirked and then maneuvered the hand to take the index finger into his mouth to suck on it suggestively. Heero's knees nearly buckled and his free hand sought purchase on Duo's shoulder.

Heero's heart stuttered in his chest. Duo could hear it. And Duo could smell that the boy was soiling his underwear with precome.

With a pop Duo released the finger. "Undress yourself and go lie on the bed." He nodded at the sober mattress on the floor and specified: "Face down."

A shuddered passed through his plaything of choice. Heero nodded, almost a little too eager. He stripped way his clothing, revealing an athletic, shapely body. His shoulders were set nicely wide, collarbones angling up from breastbone to scapula, both culminating in a faint bump atop his shoulders. His arms and chest were nicely toned, the muscles moved fluidly underneath golden skin as he moved to rid himself of his jeans after kicking off his shoes. His slim waist flared out to slightly wider hips, a silhouette he would lose once he would get older and build more muscle. His legs were endless, with strong thighs and defined calves.

Duo let his eyes feast shamelessly and Heero didn't appear very self-conscious when his pushed his boxer brief down his legs and stepped out of them. The boy didn't meet his eyes and instead turned around without seeking further instruction or guidance and lowered himself onto the mattress. He crawled to the center on all fours and then got into position, laying down on his stomach, folding his hands under his chin and purposefully angling his hips to present himself.

Duo groaned in approval. Keeping out of Heero's line of sight he snatched one of the thick candles off the scaffolding and stalked towards his prey. He knelt onto the mattress, straddling Heero's left thigh. The boy drew in a gasp when Duo let his fingers ghost over buttocks ever so lightly. He moved his hips, seeking a stronger touch, something that wasn't so ticklish and didn't make him tense-up all over but Duo wouldn't give him that. Heero mewled in disappointment when the fingers completely disappeared. With a devilish grin Duo held the candle directly above Heero's behind and tilted it to let the molten candlewax spill onto the sensitive skin.

Heero whined in surprise but the sound evolved into a deep moan.

Duo watched the wax harden, fringed by reddened skin. "Has anyone ever done this to you before?"

"N-No," He stuttered as more wax dropped onto him.

Duo grinned in appreciation, he liked introducing his partners to new things, so he could live vicariously through them and feel the excitement of 'something new', even when it wasn't new to him.

He moved the candle laterally and tilted it again, letting several drops drip down onto the other ass cheek, met with a similar reaction of shock blending into pleasure. He dipped his finger into it before the wax cooled and dragged it down as it stiffened along the way and crumbled away from the skin.

Heero moved his hips in tiny motions, content having his erection sandwiched between the mattress and his stomach.

The tall man leaned forward and let his eyes trail down the smooth expanse of his back. He let more hot wax drip on him, sensitizing his skin, not just on his cheeks but on the back of his thighs and shoulders as well. The boy flinched at every droplet, never knowing where and when the next will fall, but his gasp never failed to morph into a moan. Long, golden fingers twisted into the sheets, he wouldn't be the first to tear them.

Done with this part of the game, he blew out the candle and tossed it aside. It hit the concrete floor with a dull thud and then further rolled away from them, disappearing into the darkness beyond the reach of the delicate light from the dozens of candles surrounding them. Duo lowered his hips and ground his pelvis against Heero's bottom. The young one pushed back wantonly and whined and groaned like an animal in heat.

"You're so fucking  _needy_ ," Duo remarked. He wasn't disappointed.

"Yes. I need it. Please," The prey mewled into the single pillow.

Duo dropped his head and buried his nose in the messy, dark hair. He breathed in the scent of sweat, ripe with a perfume of seductive pheromones. It was getting stronger and stronger. Regular humans would not be able to smell it, not consciously at least, but Duo's kind was more evolved in that regard, although no more evolved in being able to resist. He nipped on the soft, fleshy earlobe and kept thrusting against him, enjoying the effects he had on the youngster.

He sat up and straddled Heero's lower back, keeping him pinned to the mattress so he could no longer rock his hips to achieve friction against the bedsheets. With one hand he roughly grabbed Heero's hair and forced him to turn his head, facing him to the right. He held his other hand in front of him, presenting his index and middle finger. The simple instruction was: "Suck."

Without hesitation the boy took the fingers into his mouth. The wet cavern was so hot that it nearly burned Duo, but once he got used to it the heat became addictive and comforting. A heat that he could not imagine ever growing tired of. The lips sealed around him tightly and a flat tongue pressed against the underside of his fingers. The boy suckled earnestly, revealing an erotic skill. It wasn't a stretch for Duo's imagination to envision Heero sucking on his cock, paying extra attention to the crown, the way he paid extra attention to the tips of his fingers, and letting his throat vibrate around him as he moaned gratuitously.

He pulled out his fingers, but was momentarily mesmerized by the thread of saliva that still connected his digits to Heero's mouth. Overcome with an old sense of impatience he scooted down to sit on the boy's thighs and brought his hand down. He pressed the pads of his fingers against the opening between the round cheeks. His other hand he pushed into the small of Heero's back, forcing him to arch his back further and angle his hips up more. He petted the pucker with both fingers, the teasing ministrations caused the recipient to squirm.

Duo looked up to see Heero biting his bottom lip. He felt a flicker of panic, afraid of what would happen if Heero accidentally drew blood. He didn't trust that he would be able to refrain himself if that sharp, metallic scent was to fill the air. He bent forward and kissed the corner of the plump mouth. "Don't do that," He whispered. "Don't bite your lip."

The white teeth lost their grip on the bottom lip; the flesh was swollen and reddened and his teeth had left marks in the skin, but the skin had not yet broken. He whimpered.

"Good boy," Duo breathed and to reward him he pushed the very tip of his middle finger into Heero's opening. Heero bucked beneath him, but to no avail. Pleads started to spill from his lips. Also to no avail. All Duo did was work the end of his finger in and out of him. It did little to stretch him and in no way helped him relax. The boy's entire body was tense and he clenched and spasmed desperately around that inch of finger. It took little coaxing to turn up the volume of Heero's cries. Pleased to reap the rewards of his handiwork, Duo listened to the lewd sounds that tumbled from his mouth. He pressed his index finger in alongside the middle finger, but still refused to go deep.

"Ahh. Nnn… You're evil."

"That is the general consensus, yes." Duo smirked. Finally, he pushed the fingers further into Heero's body and the boy yelped in response and his tight hold on the sheets ripped the fabric. The American found the prostate easily and massaged the bundle of nerves, making Heero lose all sense of himself. His touch was purposeful but he made sure not to bring Heero over the edge, although it was readily apparent that he could, even without directly stimulating his arousal. He fucked him with his fingers, reading his cries and facial expressions to know exactly when to be rough and when to be gentle, when to focus on his prostate and when to stretch him with a scissoring motion.

The boy eventually became breathless and could only produce small, pathetic sounds as he submitted to the exquisite torture. Saliva trickled from his mouth, tears trailed from his eyes and his precome stained the sheets.

"You want my cock, don't you?"

"Yesss…" He hissed in response and squeezed his eyes shut. More tears fell. He was desperate, not upset.

"You want to get fucked so badly."

Heero didn't say anything. He knew it wasn't a question. He knew it was a truth that could not be denied.

He took his fingers out and grabbed Heero's hips with both hands and hoisted him up on all fours before directing him to sit up on his knees. He pulled the boy's back against his chest and tilted his head back so he could kiss him savagely. The mouth was as hot, wet and responsive as he had hoped. Heero kissed back generously and passionately.

Duo was still fully dressed, whereas the boy was naked, exposed and vulnerable, but this added to Duo's excitement. He snaked one arm around the slim waist to steady him and then shoved his fingers back inside him. He drank up Heero's moans and gasps as he continued to unravel him like this.

He knew that he should grant the boy his release if he wanted him to able to come with him later on. So he used his free hand to wrap around Heero's erection. As expected, the skin was slick from precome and moved easily in Duo's tight fist.

Subjected to more pleasure than he could handle, Heero was unable to maintain the kiss. He kept his lips parted as he moaned continuously and senselessly and Duo resorted to suckling on his delicious bottom lip. Then, suddenly, Heero bared his teeth and let out a strangled cry when he reached his orgasm. Duo was quick to angle the erection so the hot semen landed on his hand and on Heero's own stomach. The milky white droplets felt like molten wax on Duo's skin.

When he abruptly let go of Heero the boy toppled forward, completely limp and powerless, and he landed on the mattress with a bounce.

Duo remained upright on his knees and watched the youngster catch his breath. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the candlelight beautifully enhanced the golden tone of his skin.

Heero hugged the pillow to himself and buried his nose in it, muffling his drawn-out moans as he reveled in the aftermath of his orgasm. His dark hair fanned out around him and contrasted with the white sheets. Then he turned his head and peered back at him with one visible, intensely blue eye.

_He is so beautiful_ , Duo thought to himself. He tried to think of something to compare him to, some past visual to quantify his beauty. The breathtaking natural architecture of the Tianzi mountains in China. The calming grace of the waterlilies at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. The purity of Vatnajokull Glacier Cave, in Iceland. The impressive sight of the lavender fields of Provence, France, under a sky painted red, orange and blue by the sunset. The detail of gold-leafed ceiling of Rome's San Giovanni in Laterano cathedral, or the mosaic floor beneath it.

There was no comparison. Heero's beauty was singular. Not any more beautiful, just a different kind of beauty. A beauty he hadn't witnessed in a person for a very long time, if ever. It seemed such a waste that it wouldn't last; that the beauty was bound to a mortal entity. It seemed even more wasteful to cut his life short.

Heero maneuvered on the bed, twisting his body to lie on his back. He gazed at the older man through thick, black lashes. "Fuck me," He breathed and he pushed himself up with his arms and nosed Duo's stomach and caressed his hands up and down Duo's thighs. "You owe me at least that."

He snatched Heero's face by the chin and forced him to look up at him. Heero's behavior implied that he knew what Duo was and that he knew how the night would end and yet he was so casual and careless in the face of it. It irked Duo. Heero was something special, but the boy was ignorant about it. That he would throw it all away in favor of a cheap, suicidal thrill was the real waste. He clutched the jaw strongly and his hold might leave a bruise. As soon as he realized this, he loosened his grip and soothed the jawline with his thumb. He stared into cobalt blue eyes, noting the lack of fear and confusion which he normally feasted on. He didn't understand this young man. He had never met someone so unafraid, so apparently self-destructive, yet at the same time self-aware and confident.

"Undress me," Duo commanded and let his hand drop down to his side.

Heero got up on his knees in front of him and popped the buttons of his shirt. His lips were parted and a pink tongue was sticking out slightly. When the youngster pushed the shirt open, he let hot fingers graze along the expanse of Duo's pale chest and moved up to slip the fabric over his broad shoulders and then peeled it down his arms. The boy leaned forward and latched his heated mouth onto Duo's neck while his fingers blindly undid his belt buckle and the button and zipper of his slacks. The weight of the belt pulled them down to his knees and Heero palmed his arousal through his black boxer briefs. With his other arm he encircled Duo's torso and he toyed with the end of the long braid. He enveloped the taller man with his warmth and with his smell. With their chests pressed together he could feel the young heart stuttering in Heero's ribcage and every sharp inhale of air tightened their embrace. Butterfly kisses landed on his neck and the shell of his ear, that prickled with the heat of Heero's breaths and hurt when he worried the earlobe between his teeth.

"That's enough. Lie down." His voice was gruff. It was not his intention to lose control. When Heero released his ear and allowed an inch of cold air between them, he could collect his cool and with a hand against Heero's sternum he urged him to lay down on the bed again, on his back. The action of ridding himself of his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, was not as elegant as he had hoped.

Duo hooked his hands under Heero's knees and pushed his legs up. So shortly after his orgasm, the younger man hadn't yet regained his erection and that was something Duo had to amend first, before continuing. He moved his open mouth along the creamy thighs and breathed in the intimate, musky scent. He licked the skin and bit the flesh whenever he felt like, taking care not to draw blood. It was exciting to find that balance of biting hard enough to leave marks, but not hard enough for his teeth to break the skin. He moved up, purposefully circumventing the half-hard manhood. He dipped his tongue into the belly-button, smiling when Heero arched his back and squirmed, and then focused his attention on the first nipple. He started gently, mouthing it with lax lips, laving it with his tongue and suckling on it, before taking it between his teeth and alternating bites with soothing licks. His hands remained on the thighs, keeping them spread, keeping him exposed. As he shifted to treat and then mistreat the other nipple, the head of his erection rubbed against Heero's perineum and his opening. The crescendo of throaty moans sent vibrations through Duo's body; from his eardrums to the tips of his toes and fingers.

Before long Heero's shaft was red and firm again, resting heavily on his abdomen, twitching as it was being ignored while every other inch of his skin was being worshipped.

Deeming his partner ready and recognizing he was getting impatient himself, he sat back on his haunches and twisted his torso to reach back for his pants. A small bottle of lube was in his pocket, since he had known full well how the night would go. When he turned back around Heero had sat up. His face was at the height of the American's midriff. His hands crawled up to Duo's hips and rested comfortably there and his lips placed kisses on Duo's body like it was easy, natural and familiar. Duo stared at him. Shadows licked at the smooth planes of his features. His thick lashes hooded his eyes, the contrast of bright white and intense cobalt was replaced with pools of black to drown in. When his front teeth grazed the swell of Duo's tightened abdominal muscles the young thing tilted his head up and let the light catch his eyes to illuminate the mischievous twinkle.

"Do you want to bite me, boy?" He grabbed his chin and curled his spine to come face-to-face with him.

"I want to suck your cock," Heero stated boldly in response. A wicked smile graced his youthful features. His expression would have been obnoxious on anybody else, but the appeal of Heero's charisma was a beautiful gloss on virtues that Duo had come to resent in others; audacity, arrogance and a kind of frankness that wasn't rooted in honesty for honesty's sake, but in a sense of entitlement, assuming the privilege of being allowed to say and do anything without fearing the consequence. And not because he was ignorant of the consequences, but because they did not intimidate him. This was youth. This was pure, unbridled youth. Duo wished he could capture it and treasure it forever. Let it confuse him, frustrate him, amuse him and excite him for the rest of eternity, but with regret he realized it could not be bottled; it could not be preserved.

He could make the boy like him. He had the self-restraint to do that nowadays, to not get lost in the feeding-frenzy. But it would be futile. The change would warp every fiber of his being. The boy would become a lifeless thing, like Duo. Scentless, pale and cold. The golden hue of his skin, the flush of his cheeks and chest and the brightness of his cobalt blue eyes would fade. He would always look young, but too soon he wouldn't really be young or fresh anymore. He would become another ancient ghoul, half alive, existing long enough to resent his own immortality. When once the sight of the Statue of Liberty could still thrill him after many years, everything would come to bore him.

It was a grim outlook.

Duo wasn't confident that he could live with the guilt, for the rest of his eternity, if he extinguished this bright flame, whether it would be by ending his life or by unnaturally extending it.

What made Heero that much different from his other 'dance partners', Duo couldn't tell. There had been other, brazen, bright-eyed and spirited boys, but somehow they paled in comparison.

"Later," The tall man finally said in response to Heero's outspoken desire.

"Later?"

"You're not leaving here until morning," Duo purred and he pushed the exotic male back onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, locking his elbows to keep himself hovering above him.

Heero frowned, like he knew the initial plan was to not let him leave at all and he didn't trust the change of heart. His features soon relaxed when the other lowered himself onto him and Heero became docile in the passionate kiss, accepting Duo's tongue into his mouth and surrendering to the man's will.

Duo expertly uncapped the tube of lube without ever losing his focus on the receptive, hot mouth. With three fingers coated in the slick substance he brought the hand down between Heero's legs and paused their kiss long enough for Heero to draw in a shuddering breath when he pushed the first digit past the tight ring of his opening. He kept the touch shallow. Heero moved his hips in an attempt to get the finger deeper inside of him and he mewled against Duo's grinning lips when he failed.

"I'm in charge," Duo growled.

Heero nodded compliantly. "Yes."

He worked in a second, then later a third finger but didn't push them in beyond the first joint.

Heero rolled his head from side to side, teetering on a line between ecstasy and frustration.

"Beg me."

"Please," He breathed senselessly in response.

"Please, what?"

"Please. Give me more."

The American smirked. "More of my fingers? Or do you want my cock?"

"Anything. Everything. Please…" Clouded eyes regarded him.

He pushed the threesome of fingers further into them and fluttered them over the bundle of nerves of the prostate.

Heero arched his back and cried out. "Yes! Ah! Thank you!"

He smiled and applied more pressure as he continued to massage the sensitive spot.

The boy was rendered incoherent, moaning, gasping and mumbling something that may have been Duo's name.

"Are you ready, baby?"

Heero trembled at the nickname. "Yes…"

"Do you want my thick cock in here?" He moved his fingers in and out of the slick passage. "Do you want to feel it stretch you and caress your sweet-spot with every thrust?"

"Fuck," He bit his lip. "Yeah."

He bent down and swiped the pearl of precome off the head of the neglected erection with his tongue.

Heero threw his arm over his eyes and let out a deep groan that vibrated in his throat.

"Turn over," Duo ordered.

"I want to watch you fuck me."

He snatched Heero's face by his chin and reminded him: "I'm in charge."

Heero managed a small nod with his chin in Duo's strong grip. As soon as he was let go off he obediently rolled over onto his stomach and angled his pelvis to give access.

Duo poured more of the lube onto his member and then grabbed Heero by his hips and pulled him up on all fours. Heero's hipbones felt sharp in his palms as he squeezed them and maneuvered them both into position. He held himself with one hand and inched forward until the tip of his arousal kissed Heero's opening. He rubbed his hard flesh against the hole.

"Please," The boy moaned and Duo obliged him.

Pushing into him was like sinking into a hot bath. Every nerve-ending fired. The first sparks were intense, almost painful, but were quickly replaced with a pleasant tingle, coursing through his body in a pulsing rhythm. He slid his cock into the hot sheath to the hilt. The muscles rippled around him, clenching and relaxing.

Heero collapsed, his face and shoulders burying into the mattress. A strangled cry ripped out of him, an equal expression of pain and pleasure.

Not meaning to hurt or torture his lover, Duo gave him time to adjust to his size. He reached around and teased his erection, milking more precome out of it and spreading it over the sensitive crown with his thumb.

He dipped his head down and whispered against the back of his neck: "You feel so good."

"You're so big…" He mumbled into the sheets.

Duo chuckled. "Is that a complaint?"

"No…" He drawled and he cocked his head to the side to reveal his face; flustered and dewy with a sheen of sweat. He exhaled in deep, labored puffs and bit down on his plump bottom lip again when Duo kissed and nipped at his shoulder blade.

"It drives me crazy to see you biting your lip like that," He snarled and sunk his teeth into the skin of his back more earnestly, coming dangerously close to drawing blood.

The pearly whites released the lowered lip and the flesh bounced back into place.

Without warning Duo sat upright and pulled Heero along with him. He wrapped his thick arms around his body, clutching him to him. Heero's back was wet and slick with perspiration.

Heero looked over his shoulder at him.

Duo stared at the pink, swollen lower lip and couldn't resist reacquainting himself with what it tasted like. He closed his mouth around it and suckled on it and worried it between his teeth. His hands roamed over Heero's abdomen, kneading the muscles and marveling at how tiny his waist felt when he put his big hands on his sides. His fingers ghosted up to dust over the ribs that appeared with each sharp intake of breath. He dropped one hand to the inside of the thigh, feeling the wetness of excess lube trailing down the inside of his legs. The scent of sweat and sex was intoxicating and Duo took deep breaths hoping it would permeate his body – his skin, his lungs, the hairs in his nose, the taste buds on his tongue – and that he would exude it for days to come.

He toyed with the idea of not just letting Heero go at the end of the night, but to see him more often; invite him to his apartment and take him on his own bed, so that smell could stain his sheets and seep into the curtains and the clothes in his closet. To keep that warmth near, to cherish it, to kindle it. It was the most reckless, dangerous thought he had entertained in over a century.

He placed his hands on the hips and dug the tips of his fingers into the flesh for grip and started moving their bodies the way they both craved. With each thrust he pulled Heero's pelvis back to meet with his, making the penetration that much more powerful. Their grunts and moans blended into one. One of Heero's hands grabbed Duo's butt cheek. The pads of his fingers would leave deep purple bruises, but at the moment the touch felt like five cigarette burns and the white hot pain only made the pleasure more intense as it contrasted with it.

He relocated his mouth to Heero's craning neck, running his lips along the skin, searching for the pulse. His tongue traced the artery and skipped up to his ear to wet the shell of his ear before blowing cool air into it.

The rhythm of their lower bodies was relentless. Their flesh slapped together hard enough to drown out the sounds that poured past their lips. Duo encircled Heero's erection with his fist but did nothing more than feel it throb in his palm and revel at how it twitched in his hold in response to the pleasure he was receiving.

"You're so hot," He mumbled into the ear.

"Is that a complaint?" Heero mirrored Duo's question from before.

The long-haired man smiled. "No." Heero heat was a kind he had never experienced before. It seeped into the depths of him, unlike hot showers or warm weather, which only heated his skin and left his body too quickly. Heero's heat would linger. It scared him to imagine how much he would crave it once it would be gone from his bones, his still heart, his arms, his cock… He would loathe the cold all the more, after having known this fieriness.

He picked up the pace, feeling a building pressure low in his belly. Maybe he should have held off their orgasm, but he was impatient for release and he knew it wouldn't be the last time of that night. He worked the crown of Heero's arousal with his thumb and two fingers. The small but purposeful stimulation in combination with an incessant assault on his prostrate was enough to make the boy reach his climax before Duo. The channel tightening around him was all that was needed to bring him over the edge as well. He closed his eyes only to be blinded by white lights sparkling behind his eyelids as the peak of pleasure ripped through his body and broke something down inside of him; a wall maybe. With his left arm he embraced Heero.

Heero had his back arched and his head thrown back, over Duo's shoulder. His cries were sharp and too loud, so close to his ear, but made him smile regardless because he was crying out his name, just the way he liked it.

His hand was sticky with the other's release. He wiped most of it off on his thigh but then brought his fingers to Heero's lips and had him suck the digits clean. Duo then disentangled them and let the boy fall forward onto the mattress. He admired the glossy skin of his inner thighs, stained with lubricant.

Heero rolled over and looked at him with dark, hooded eyes.

"Rest. The night is still young."

The heavy eyelids slid shut.

He let him sleep for half an hour while he stood at the windows and studied the illuminated lady of Liberty in the distance. The turquoise color of her oxidized copper was washed out by the yellow glow of the lights aimed at her from below. The light of her flame was warm and could not be dulled, not even by the floodlights, not even by the sparkle of the city that crowded the bay on either side. His eyes moved from the shadows in the folds of Lady Liberty's robes to the lit-up windows of the buildings. Every single square and rectangle of light represented a person – some more than one. So many people and yet he had been alone two or three lifetimes' worth. It didn't use to bother him, there was no joy to be found in the company of other's anyway. But as Heero's warmth disappeared from his skin into the chill air around him and he started to feel cold again, like he himself was a statue of copper, he admitted with a shiver of a different kind that some company was joyful after all. It was a bittersweet revelation. He could risk seeing Heero a few more times, in the secrecy and anonymity of the night, but he needed to keep the young man at an arm's length in order to protect himself. He may be immortal, age nor disease could ever ravage him, but he was not invincible and these were dangerous times to be a cold-one in New York City.

Heero stirred on the bed, the rustle of the sheets that Duo had draped over him drew his attention.

He smiled and cocked his head. He wasn't alone that night and he should enjoy it to the fullest.

Duo stalked back to the bed and joined his lover under the sheets, where it was deliciously warm. Heero melted against him. He pressed his mouth against Duo's and his kiss was like the first sip of coffee that was too hot, but you wanted more of the taste anyway.

"Show me how to dance one more time," He whispered against his lips.

Recognizing the euphemism, Duo rolled on top of him and pinned his wrists above his head. "I'll show you more than once."

All night he traded Heero pleasure for warmth, becoming more gentle with him every time as the boy became increasingly undone and appeared that much more vulnerable and precious and filled him with an urge to protect, rather than to destroy. He treasured the heat. He would let nothing or no one ruin it, not even himself, not even when he knew how good it would be to sink his teeth into that arched neck and swallow the source of that fieriness and cradle it in his own belly for as long as it would last. Duo was the cold, copper statue and Heero was the bright torch that he would tirelessly keep out of harm's reach.

The candles got shorter and shorter and some flames were smothered by their own, molten wax as they had burned through the entire length of candlestick.

Heero slept in his arms.

Even without a clock Duo knew it would soon be dawn. He could feel it. An instinctual alarm went off inside him and warned him to get to the safety of his hole-in-the-wall apartment with haste. Even the mere warm glow of the sun at the horizon, whether or not he was shielded by shadows, was enough to make him feel feverish and sick and would eventually incapacitate him. Exposure to direct sunlight would broil his white skin and within seconds the blisters and welts would blacken and like lava hardening, he wouldn't be able to move, until he was burnt black in his entirety. Of the few things that could kill his kind, sunlight was the least merciful of all. It was a gruesome spectacle he had been forced to witness before. If the pain didn't scare him so much – after not having known pain for so long – perhaps he would have welcomed that simple resolution to his meaningless life. It's not easy ramming a wooden stake through one's own heart, or decapitating oneself with a silver blade, after all. The fear of pain had always stopped him, because he knew from a distant memory that pain changes a man and the pain could cause him to regret his decision before the horrible process was completed and those few seconds of regret scared him more than anything.

With a sigh he reached for Heero's hand and gently took it off his chest. He scooted out of his hold and got up from the mattress as swiftly as he could, hoping not to disturb the slumbering person. He had only managed to put on his slacks and refasten the belt buckle when the figure on the bed moved and in the dying light of the last candles, blue eyes found him.

Duo shook his head at himself. He shouldn't have tried sneaking out anyway. He had to bring him home safely, he couldn't leave him in an abandoned warehouse at the docks when it was still pitch black outside. He knew all kinds of scum roamed the streets. He knew of more scum than most. "Get dressed," He commanded. "I'm taking you home."

"Home?" The question was apparent in his eyes and the pinch of his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Home. The place where you live? I'm not leaving you here, all alone."

Heero sat up and ran a hand through his hair but he could not undo the messiness of it. "Aren't you going to bite me?"

Duo froze in the process of putting on his shirt, but recovered his composure quickly and tried to brush off the probing inquiry with a snort. "What are you talking about?" He chuckled at him.

"Don't patronize me," The exotic boy shot back. In spite of all his intensely burning heat, his gaze was ice cold and dead serious.

Seeing in those eyes that there was no point in trying to deny the truth, he admitted: "I had my suspicions, but I didn't think you really knew what I am."

Heero shrugged. "I've come across more like you. I can always tell."

"How?"

"First your eyes and then I felt your cold."

Duo nodded. It seemed only logical, since Heero was so hot in comparison. Although all regular people were warm and they never seemed to think too much of his cold touch. "If you knew all along, why did you come with me? Are you suicidal?" His tone dipped, a little judgmental. He was a hypocrite for it, but Heero didn't need to know that.

"I don't  _want_  to die," He spoke, with an unnerving self-awareness. "But I'm not afraid of dying and I won't avoid the risk – or even the apparent certainty of it – when I think the experience will at least be… titillating."

Duo frowned. "You're a pretty brave kid. Weird, and taking your life for granted, but brave."

"Not fearing death doesn't make me brave. Overcoming something that  _does_  frighten me would be brave. But nothing frightens me."

"Why not?"

"Because everything is temporary." He shrugged again and looked away, like he had a secret he didn't want to share.

That was unfair, since Heero knew Duo's dirty little secret, but he didn't press on. "Get dressed," He repeated and tossed him his clothes. "We need to leave."

The boy did as instructed and got dressed quickly, recognizing the need to be quick after glancing at his watch.

Duo blew out the candles and when dark settled around them he took Heero's hand and guided him out of the building.

A new kind of silence settled between them, the kind that made Duo's mind race in search of anything to say, anything at all to disrupt the silence. But idle chitchat had never been his forte and he cringed at the thought of mentioning the weather or pointing out a homeless man minding his own business.

Heero was equally ready for the quiet to be over, but he didn't shy away from real curiosity in order to fill the void between them. "How long have you been like this?"

"Too long." The answer was immediate.

"How did it happen?"

"The way it always happens." At Heero's sideway glance he elaborated: "One of them decided that they liked me enough to have a bite, and liked me too much to finish me off."

"You don't like me at all then?"

Duo stopped in his tracks at his flat tone, hinting at dejection and humiliation. "To bleed you dry would be a waste," He spoke firmly. "To turn you would be even worse."

"Why?"

With a sigh Duo reached out a hand and touched Heero's warm, golden cheek. At the tender touch the flesh flushed red, a delicious hue. He explained solemnly: "Beauty like yours is innately transient, its appeal lies in the elusive, ephemeral quality of it… The cherry blossom is beautiful because it is fleeting. Only by luck do you happen upon it at the right time; it is special. The flowers have to wither. The petals have to fall."

Heero lips parted and he drew in a soft gasp.

"You don't want to be like me. You don't want to be frozen in time." He dropped his hand back to his side and cast his gaze up to the sky. The dark, inky blue of the night was softening. He had only about an hour left to get home. "Come, let's find you a taxi." There wasn't enough time for him to walk Heero home and then get back to his own den to burrow down for as long as the daylight would last.

He guided his guest through the streets between the warehouses, guiding him back to the activity of the city.

"I want to see you again," Heero declared with a pitiful, pleading tone as he hurried after him.

"Maybe."

"Please."

Duo sighed and stopped again to face him. "We can meet a couple more times, like this. But it can't be much more. The times aren't right. People are starting to get suspicious of anyone with a nocturnal pattern. They are called 'crazy vigilantes' now, but soon enough their belief will spread and it will be dangerous. I don't want to expose myself to that and I don't want to expose you to that either. If your family starts asking questions… If your friends get worried…"

"I don't have a family. I don't have any friends. Not-…" He scrunched up his face. "Not really."

"All the more reason for you to not sleep away the days to spend the nights with me. You need to make friends."

"I have  _one_  friend, that's enough," Heero said. "And he won't cause any trouble. He can't."

"He  _can't_?" Duo arched his eyebrow. He had been there before with someone, a very long time ago, when he still considered himself a young undead. Friends get jealous, worried and suspicious and involve more and more people. They never fully understood what he was, but they figured out he was dangerous and he barely managed to escape their wrath as they lashed out to protect their friend.

"He's dead," The young man blurted. His eyes widened at his own slip but then shrugged it off, realizing he was talking to a  _vampire_.

Duo frowned at him. "What do you mean? Do you mean  _undead_ , do you have a friend like me?"

He shook his head. "No. He's dead."

"He's a ghost?"

"Yes."

His frown deepened. He looked the boy up and down. "Why is he with you?" Spirits clung to only one person, the person they were connected to through their death, as far as Duo knew this was always the person who took their life. Duo should know, it was what bound Quatre to him. Quatre was one of his first prey. The process had been violent, lacking all sophistication and control that he had gained with age. Most spirits moved on to the afterlife right away, but a rare few could't and they lingered in the spirit realm between the living and the dead. The only way for them to visit the living was to come down to the person they have bonded with, this person was their anchor to the plane of the living. Only when this person also died, did the ghosts fade away to the afterlife, without an anchor to hold onto. Quatre had the misfortune of being bound to an immortal being and, as the centuries turned, they became friends.

He found it difficult to imagine that this pure, exotic flower of a boy, had taken someone's life in order for that ghost to be connected to him.

"We died together."

Duo shook his head, rejecting the unheard of explanation. "What are you talking about?" He balled his fist and puffed out his chest. Anger tingled in the tips of his fingers. The kid was messing with him. Obviously, he was not dead, nor was he undead. He was not a vampire, nor a ghost. "What the fuck do you know about dying?" He spat.

Heero reeled back. "No more than you. Only what my friend tells me about my past lives and deaths."

"What are you saying? You're not making any sense."

The young man started to get frustrated with him as he was being accused of lying. "We died together in the Boshin War in 1868. I was a commander of the Japanese army and he was one of the French military advisors. He's been with me every lifetime since."

Duo was certain he went cross-eyed with disbelief. The kid was crazy! "You're not dead!" He screeched, feeling resentful that the young thing wanted to be so much like him that now that his plan to get Duo to turn him had failed, he would fabricate such a lie. He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Stop trying to sell me this shit! I can feel your warmth!" He pressed his big hand against his chest and felt the heart in the ribcage stuttering and racing. "I can feel your heart beating!"

"I didn't say I'm dead, I said I  _died_!"

"What the fuck is the difference?" He sneered.

"Hey!"

Duo and Heero both turned their heads at the voice bellowing at them. The American cursed under his breath as he saw a group of five men walking down the street, heading towards them.

"Is he bothering you?" One of them called to Heero.

Heero shook free from Duo's grip, which had gone limp anyway. "I'm fine. We were just having a discussion."

The group still came nearer.

Duo squinted his eyes at the odd objects they were carrying: glass bottles with a clear liquid – vodka or water – and branches. They wore long coats and dark scarves that partly obscured their faces. They closed the distance and surrounded the two of them.

"What's going on, gentleman?" Duo tried in a steady voice, feigning calmness.

"We're you two out all night?" A tall one with red hair peeking out from under his baseball cap asked. His voice was muffled by the black scarf around his neck and jaw.

"Just partying."

"At the docks?" Another challenged.

"I took him up to show him the statue of Liberty. The top floors of these warehouses provide a great view of the city," Duo meandered.

"And you're going home now?"

"Yes." He grabbed a hold of Heero's hand, feeling his nerves in the slickness of his palm and the fluttering pulse in his wrist. "In fact, if you wouldn't mind, we would like to go now." He tried to pull Heero out of the circle of men with him but the two in front of them closed ranks and blocked the way.

"What's the rush?"

"Please let us go," Heero pleaded.

The eyes of the ginger softened. "Don't worry, young man, we're not looking for trouble. We just need to check something and if all is well, you two are free to go."

Duo steeled his gaze. The man inched back but suppressed the instinct to yield to the intimidation and held his ground.

Suddenly one of them produced a flashlight from his pocket and shone the beam right into Duo's face. Duo brought up his hand to shield himself from the light. As he was distracted, Heero was yanked away from him by one of the men behind him, grabbing hold of his other arm and pulling him towards him.

"Let go!" Duo growled and being much stronger than the aggressor he managed to free Heero from him and pull the young man into his own, protective embrace. "You touch him again and I'll rip your arm off."

"Oakes?" Asked the ginger, cocking his head in question.

"He's good," Concluded Oakes.

"Good?" Duo questioned and he glared at the tall red-head again, assuming he was their leader. The light of the flashlight was still in his face.

"You have an interesting eye-color, sir. Amethyst is quite an unusual color."

"I'm wearing contacts," He lied. "What do you want from us?"

"We just need to check something, sir. Your friend is clear, now if we can just clear you as well, you are free to go."

"Clear me of what?" He scoffed darkly. "Are you guys one of those groups they talked about on the news? One of those vigilante groups, hunting for vampires, werewolves and fairies?" He mocked them with his laughter.

"Just vampires, sir."

He shook his head at them, hoping the charade would convince them to leave them alone, but he had a feeling he would have to fight them off.

"As far as we've been able to observe, vampires have red eyes after they've fed, but their eyes are amethyst-colored if they haven't had blood for a while. So you see, sir, we would appreciate it if you would remove your contacts for us. Or let us check you for a pulse if removing your lenses is too much of an inconvenience."

"At this point everything is too much of an inconvenience."

"We're very sorry, sir. But this will only take a minute." With a nod of his head he motioned for one of the others to approach Duo.

A man in a blue parka stepped up to him and reached for him with big, tanned hands.

Duo took his hands off Heero momentarily to fend off the invader of his personal space. With lightning speed he took hold of the grabby hands and twisted them, hearing the bones in the wrist pop before he heard the wail of the man. He kicked him back, sending him tumbling to the cold, wet ground. "You will not touch either of us."

The ginger crouched by the injured man with genuine concern and helped him up from the ground. "Did you feel it?"

"He's warm. I think he's warm," Parka-man muttered with trembling lower lip as he held his arms against himself.

"Are you sure?"

Eager to just get away, the man confirmed: "Yes, he's warm."

The warmth in his hands was nothing but a remnant of Heero's heat, but it seemed it was enough to trick the self-proclaimed vampire-hunters.

"Are we 'good'?" Duo sneered.

"Yes. Our apologies sir," Replied the red-head. "You are free to go." He motioned for them to leave.

Duo was relieved that the situation seemed resolved and tugged Heero along with him. However, he hadn't taken more than two steps when, from the corner of his eye, he saw one of the men unscrewing the top on the bottle he was holding and flicked the bottle in his direction. A streak of clear liquid hit him across the throat and splattered onto his exposed chest due to the undone top buttons of his dress-shirt. He cried out in agony as the water - Holy water – burned his skin.

"He's one of them!" Screeched the assailant and the others rushed to his aid. Some of them produced switchblades from the inner pockets of their coats. He assumed the knives were pure silver. The others started whipping him with the branches. The hits didn't hurt against his clothes, but when the branches touched his neck or hands, thousands of small thorns cut into his skin. The pain caught him off guard and allowed the others the opportunity to slash at him with their knives. The blades cut through his clothes and skin and left bloodless wounds that he knew would heal quickly, but turn into hideous scars.

"Stop it!" Heero screamed and he defended the cold-blooded American, tackling them with complete disregard for his own safety.

"He's dangerous!" Said a big man and then pushed the smaller Asian to the ground.

Seeing Heero land on the cold streets infuriated Duo and when one of the men climbed on top of the boy to keep him pinned down and out of the way, rage overcame him and the pain faded away. He grabbed the end of the thorny branch that was hitting him and pulled it out of the grip of the man wielding it, even though it stung in his palm. He stopped the attack of another by grabbing the hand holding the silver blade and roughly pulling the man towards him. He lost his balance and stumbled against him. Now that he was within his reach, Duo closed his hand around his throat, coming close to choking the life out of him before tossing him aside like he was a lightweight ragdoll, not a nearly two hundred pound man.

The ginger charged at him, clutching a carefully carved, wooden stake.

Heero struggled against the man holding him down, not fazed by the threat of the silver knife. He wrapped his legs around him and contorted his body to force them to switch positions, coming close to overpowering the man that was twice the size of him.

Duo barely managed to evade the attack of the ginger. The sharp end of the stake sliced along his abdomen, further ripping his shirt. He snatched the stake out of his hand and holding onto the sharp end he used it as a club to beat the red-haired man against his back. He beat him again and again, until he was on the ground, screaming, trying to crawl away from him, but Duo just stalked after him. He easily thwarted the half-hearted attacks of the others, who finally seemed to realize they didn't stand a chance. The vampire planted his foot on the ginger's back, forcing him flat onto the ground. He raised the piece of wood over his head and was tempted to crack his skull open with it. He swung his weapon and the wooden stake fractured into small pieces, splinters flying off it, when he hit it against the asphalt right by the man's head. He stepped back and kicked him once against his side for good measure. He hoped that from then on they would be discouraged to try to take on another being like him. They might not all be as strong as him, but sooner or later they would run into one who could annihilate them, like he could, and that would be bad for everyone involved.

The ginger scrambled to his feet and started running, calling back to his mates: "Let's go! Let's get out of here!"

Duo watched four of them run away and then turned back. He froze when he spotted Heero lying prone on the ground. The big man that had attacked him, that had seemed to lose the upper hand to him, stood over him. His face was whiter than Duo's. His eyes were wide and scared as he met his amethyst gaze. The silver knife in his hand was stained red. He dropped it to the ground and a spatter of blood, and raindrops from the puddle, flew up.

The strong, metallic scent of blood registered in the aftermath of the fight.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," Whimpered the man. He cast one last look down at the boy on the ground and ran his hand through his hair, not realizing he was leaving a streak of blood across his forehead. "I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry," He kept saying. He looked at Duo again, in fear and then sprinted away, following his friends.

Duo let him pass him. His felt his body deflate at the sight of the young man lying in the middle of the street. His golden hand covered the wound high up in his abdomen. Blood seeped through the opening between his fingers and the stain on his shirt grew bigger and bigger. His breaths were sharp, uneven and uncontrolled. He coughed and blood sputtered out of his mouth.

The American took a step back. The smell was… intoxicating, but he felt wrought with shame for entertaining the thought of how delicious the thick, dark blood would taste on his tongue.

Heero rolled his head to the side and his blue gaze found him. "Duo," He pleaded.

The tall man walked up to him slowly, giving himself time to get used to the smell and not be overpowered by it as he got closer and it filled his nose. He knelt by him and cradled the back of Heero's head in his palm. He thumbed the soft hair, messy from the night they had shared. He stared into the blue orbs, recognizing the resignation in them. He covered Heero's hand in his, ignoring the warmth of the blood. "No. No." He repeated the words over and over.

He could turn him. He could bite him and turn him. But would that really be saving him?

"I'm not afraid of dying," Heero whispered. "The cherry blossom will return next spring."

"You're talking crazy," Duo chastised him, but then a sudden sob escaped him and he stared in shock at a tear that fell from his eye and landed on Heero's cheek.

"Come find me when I'm of age," He said. "Come find me. Show me how to dance again."

Duo still didn't understand what the young man was alluding at.

Heero offered a smile in response to Duo's confused expression.

Duo retreated his hand when the wound in Heero's torso started to smolder and white hot embers were pulled up by the wind. The flesh blackened to coal and then started to fall apart, spreading out from the wound. With a flash the body was reduced to ash and cinders and the wind blew away everything but the handful that Duo reached for. A fiery, winged shape rose into the cold sky where it evaporated into a puff of white smoke.

He opened his hand and watched the grey dust slip between his fingers and get scattered like the rest.

Realization hit him. He had heard of rumors and whispers and farfetched news reports of 'Spontaneous Human Combustion' but had never believed there was any truth to these tales, even though he was a 'supernatural' being himself, even though his best friend was a  _ghost_  of all things.

They're real.

"He's a phoenix."

He wiped away the wet trail of the single tear that had escaped him and got up from the ground. Quatre could find the French ghost for him, who was stuck in the spirit realm much like him, bound to an immortal soul. The ghost could help him find Heero.

He noticed the orange glow spreading across the expanse of sky like wildfire and knew it was too late to head home. Instead, he found safety in the damp basement of one of the warehouses.

Heero's warmth left his body and too soon he was cold once more. He would have to wait for him to mature again, but two decades of waiting were nothing for him, especially when he realized he might have been waiting for someone like Heero his entire undead-life; nearly eight centuries.

Although the guilt of being responsible for Heero's latest death would wreck him until they would meet again, for the first time since too long, he had something to look forward to. He would get to meet Heero over and over, enjoy his warmth, his youth, his boldness and experience the world through his brand-new eyes for eternity.

Maybe living forever wasn't such a bad thing after all.


End file.
